


In Which Eeyore does not have the Worst of Worst Days

by scarletts_awry



Category: Winnie The Pooh
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-24
Updated: 2010-12-24
Packaged: 2017-10-14 02:00:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/144112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scarletts_awry/pseuds/scarletts_awry





	In Which Eeyore does not have the Worst of Worst Days

**Author's Note:**

  * For [foxtwin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/foxtwin/gifts).



It _was_ a windy, rainy, unpleasanty day.

Eeyore was in his Gloomy Place, muttering to himself about the thick mud that had splashed up everywhere. He couldn’t put a foot down without stepping or sticking or slipping in it.

“It always gets muddy here,” he muttered, and his back left foot squelched into a puddle. “You see a sunny sky with a little grey raincloud, and maybe you think ‘oh, it’s only a light shower,’ but suddenly there’s mud everywhere.”

And today hadn’t started with a sunny sky and a little grey raincloud.

Neither had yesterday,  
nor the day before,  
nor the day before that.

All in all, Eeyore counted six days since he’d seen the sunshine, and each day was soggier and soggier.

“Rain, rain, rain.” Eeyore sighed. “I don’t suppose I’ll ever get dry again.”

One of Rabbit’s friends-and-relations croaked a quick “how-are-ya” as he hopped by, splashing a few more drops of mud around.

“And does anyone think to bring me an umbrella?” Eeyore asked after the frog. “Well, even if they did, I don’t have any hands to hold an umbrella with.”

The frog croaked _erm_ , and on his next big hop he gave a big shrug, since he was also in a big hurry.

“Go on, go on. I understand why no one would want to stay here,” Eeyore said. “It still would be nice if someone remembered me, just some of the time.” He said that _last_ part to himself--

\--but the wind blew harder just then, it blew a full gust of rain sideways, and cold little raindrops ran down Eeyore’s neck and back, making him shiver and flick his tale.

\--and it blew along his words too, and carried them along to Rabbit’s friend because the frog turned around mid-air and took one big leap back toward Eeyore.

“I think it’s quite nice here!” croaked the frog. “It reminds me of when I was a tadpole down in the bog.”

“That’s right, that’s okay for you,” Eeyore said. The rain pattered down, and he hunched his shoulders. “That’s what I get for not being a frog then. Oh well.”

“Right, you aren’t a frog, so you should go somewhere with fewer puddles and less mud.” The frog turned and hopped away again.

“Like where?” Eeyore asked, but the wind must have snatched his words in the other direction

“I have to stay in my Gloomy Place.” Eeyore sniffed and snorted. Of course he’d be catching a cold in the rain, and his face was all wet, too, because it was raining. That’s all. “Thistle only grows here in my Gloomy Place, and what else am I supposed to eat?”

To prove his point, Eeyore walked carefully along a ridge of higher ground, slipping not only once but _thrice_ and getting mud even on his ears. He stopped when he came to a nice patch of thistle, and all the thistle was a lovely shade of purple, even in the rainy grey daylight.

Eeyore tried to take a deep sniff, but he couldn’t with his snuffly, stuffy nose. He wasn’t very hungry, either, because you’re not hungry when you’re coming down with a cold, and if he felt like there was a big lump in his throat, well it only meant he was coming down with the mumps or something equally bad.

He took a big bite of the pretty purple thistles, and they were limp and soggy--much like Eeyore himself at this point. His thistles were mushy, not crisp and munchy, and this was turning into the Worst Day Ever.

Eeyore knew he called a lot of days the Worst Day Ever, and many of them were really the same amount of worst. If he were being honest and truthful, he might say he had a lot of worst days.

But this was the Worst of Worst Days. It was so Worst, he thought he’d make up a poem.

It rains and rains and rains,  
and I haven’t seen Christopher Robin for days.  
It rains and rains and rains,  
so the mud is spread thick as Pooh’s hunny.  
It rains and rains and rains  
so now my dinner is all mushy.

He knew it wasn’t a very good poem.

Eeyore sighed and flicked his tail and blinked more rain out of his eyes. He was still coming down with a lumpy-throated cold of some kind--hopefully it wasn’t a fatal kind--but he was sort of hungry after all. He felt empty-stomached, and he touched another bite of soggy thistle with his nose.

The ground looked a bit less muddy further on, toward the trees at the edge of the Gloomy Place, and Eeyore thought about this. He touched the soggy thistle with his nose then looked out at the mud. There might be less soggy thistle over there, under a tree. He didn’t think there was crispy thistle anywhere to be found in this rain, but one _might_ find it over there, near the trees, where the ground is a little higher.

Or he could stay here with the soggy thistle he does have. Then he wouldn’t be disappointed when he didn’t find the crispy thistle.

An extra fat raindrop landed on Eeyore’s head, right in the place between his ears, and it slid down his face and along the top of his nose.

“Puddles and mud are all well and good for frogs,” Eeyore said to himself. “But they aren’t any good for Eeyore’s.” He sneezed and decided to look amongst the trees. If he didn’t find any thistle, maybe he’ll find less mud. It wasn’t far to walk, but each of his four feet slipped once on the way over. It could’ve been worse. They didn’t all slip at the same time. Maybe that would happen on the way back home.

The wind was being windy, and the trees shook. Being damp, Eeyore shook too, and he went behind the trees to look for a place where the wind was less windy.

Then something hard went _thonk_ onto Eeyore’s head.

THONK.

It landed right where the fat raindrop did, right in the place between his ears.

Eeyore sneezed and had to blink more rain out of his eyes. Then he looked around for whatever had gone _thonk_ onto his head because he wanted-- he wanted--

to kick it  
or stomp it  
or yell at it  
or do something

he wasn’t sure what

just that it hurts when something goes thonk on your head, and Eeyore had already declared today the Worst of Worst Days, so today really had nothing more to prove.

There, on Eeyore’s left, he saw a red lump on the ground. He thought it looked like how the top of his head felt now, all red and lumpy, lying in the wet green grass. He looked at it more closely.

Eeyore thought it was an apple.

He’d seen Christopher Robin eat an apple once. It was dark red, and he’d eaten every bit his little teeth could handle. He couldn’t eat the core at the very center, which was tough and crunchy and sort of thistly. That’s what Christopher Robin told Eeyore.

Eeyore licked the apple and only tasted the rain. He’d had enough rain.

Eeyore took a bite:

The apple was crisp and crunchy.  
He chewed very slowly.  
The apple was sweet,  
but not quite like hunny,  
instead it was juicy  
and yummy  
and crunch and crispy  
and then it was gone.

Eeyore had eaten it all up!

His stomach rumbled for more apples.

So Eeyore walked around the tree slowly, with his nose to the ground. The ground wasn’t muddy below the apple tree, and Eeyore found four more apples blown loose from the wind and sitting in the damp green grass.

Eeyore brought the apples to the less windy side of the tree, and there he munched each crispy crunchy apple one bite at a time. He munched each bite slowly,

When he was finally through with the apples, he sighed, and it was a happy sigh. He’d never had a happy sigh before, so he sighed it again.

The rain still trickled from the sky, but the sky had gotten lighter and brighter while Eeyore ate. The sun might come out soon.

Eeyore looked up, saw there were many more apples up in his tree, and he sighed a happy sigh again.


End file.
